


The Ghost of Summerhall

by pennygesserit



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Drama, Family, Gen, Other, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27471829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennygesserit/pseuds/pennygesserit
Summary: Jacaera, the eldest of Prince Maekar and Lady Dyanna's daughters rules over Summerhall in the absence of her father and brothers but when her Uncle Baelor, the heir to the Iron Throne dies at the hands of her father her world is turned up side down tasking herself to protect the family. But what line is she willing to cross to protect the greatest dynasty the world has ever known?
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

The rays of light scattered themselves across the rose window from above the arch of the castle, they were of all colors; red, blue, yellow that found their way to her that warmed her face like an embrace she had longed for. The girl opened her red eyes but not before shading them with her arm, leaving the beautiful rose window to break her fast with her younger sisters. The morning was warm as usual and not much to her liking since her skin was averse to sunlight, she had heard of them talk of how she was cursed just as her grandfather’s half-brother had been, eyes as red as blood, skin as pale as milk and hair as white as snow. Her Uncle Baelor had said that when she was weeks old she had started showing signs of the condition how reading had been terrible, how she would bump into walls and objects just as she started learning how to walk. Her uncle added that it was not he who knew but their own half-uncle Lord Rivers had begun to notice her. When her parents travelled to the capital and presented her to her kingly grandfather said she had been the most beautiful of his grandchildren, a smile curled on the side of her lips at the memory. T _hat was a lifetime ago, everything after mother’s passing had felt hollow and father had not been the same at all and with the tragedy at the tourney, nothing would ever be the same again._ She thought, stopping on her tracks sighing before entering her sister Daella’s quarters.

“Forgive my tardiness Your Grace,” She said, smiling. “There were matters that required my attention.” She added, mockingly.

“You are forgiven Lady Jacaera,” replied her sister Daella playing along, who sat alone on the table with food already in place “but it seems you give far too much attention to your duties as the eldest amongst us.”

“Don’t do it again!” yelled the youngest Rhae who jumped out of nowhere and hits her with a pillow.

Jacaera could not help but laugh, she wished it were like this for the most part but her laughter died quickly knowing what she must tell her sisters now, she didn’t want the happiness to end but her father taught her that the cold hard truth must always come first. _And what if I don’t want to tell the truth in order to protect those we love father?_ She knew what the man would say, but she didn’t want Daella and Rhae to grow up as quickly as she was forced to do. It was then she noticed that her sisters had been staring at her.

“What are we having today?” She asked, not wanting their suspicion to grow any further.

“We have creamy chestnut soup, honeyed ham, trout, and mashed yellow turnips.” Replied Rhae who enjoyed watching the cooks in the kitchen prepare their meals.

“What are we waiting for?” asked Daella, eyes with shades of violet just as she remembered their mother’s to be.

As the sisters ate and told stories of days gone by, Jacaera started feeling her throat dry and she reached out for the flagon of wine specifically prepared for her when she felt both Daella and Rhae staring at her as she poured herself a glass.

“Can we try?” They both replied at the same time. “If you want to,” she replied after taking a sip of her glass, “just don’t tell father.”

The girls smiled and giggled, keeping secrets from their father seems to have become a sport with her siblings, she and Daeron or the girls, and Aemon and Egg in tandem for the most part. Aerion no one seems to get along with.

When the wine touched their lips, Daella quickly gulped it and made a face, while Rhae spat it out landing on Daella’s hair.

“How can you drink this Caera?” Daella asked, drying her dark hair after being showered with wine by Rhae.

“The same reason Daeron does.” the elder replied, her answer met with silence.

A knock came at the door that broke the silence, and their steward Landry entered, he was a thin man with graying hair. Jacaera had known him since she was a babe but Landry was beginning to show signs of aging, a limp walk had been the first sign. Landry bowed and approached them.

“Sorry for disturbing your graces,” he began, “but letters just arrived.”

Landry hands her the letter and she takes them without hesitation but she remembers Daeron’s earlier letter about what had happened to their Uncle Baelor and how Egg had caused a chain reaction that resulted in his death, father and some hedge knight were blamed for it, _father for the most part_ or so her brother writes. _Are you sure it’s not father blaming himself for the most part brother?_

“Thank you Landry, I’ll read these after we finish our meal.”

* * *

“Sister, will you walk with us to Maester Robbard’s solar before you attend to your duties?” Rhae said, voice still that of a child’s but the etiquette of a lady already.

“I will.”

When they reached Maester Robbard’s solar, she noticed a thick book placed on the table,

“The princesses are learning about the Kings of Winter, Your Grace.”

“I see,” she replied, “tell me Maester, are there as many Brandons as there are many Aegons?”

The Maester smiled and snorted, “I honestly wouldn’t know your grace, I suppose there are more Brandons.” He replied.

“Generations of Targaryens have been lost when the Doom of Valyria came, who knows how many Aegons there have been before the Conqueror himself,” Jacaera began, “let’s hope my family remembers the tragedies that reigned down upon our house so that we may learn from them and repeat their mistakes.”

The Maester only nodded in agreement.

* * *

When she reached her father’s solar where she had often spent most of her day, she fished out the letters from the pockets of her dress. One of them was from father, and the other from Aegon she could tell them apart since father’s letters were clean, thought out and Egg’s had thick dried ink to cover errors in grammar or spelling. Jacaera decided to read Egg’s letter first this time.

_Dear Caera,_

_As you know by now our Uncle Baelor has gone to the seven heavens, I’ve already heard talk among people about how father robbed them and grandfather of a good heir to the throne. It is not only father who is being blamed for uncle’s death it is also Ser Duncan, whatever Daeron has told you about him is a lie I am squiring for him now, not Daeron but Ser Duncan just me and him on the road and I hope you do not bear me any ill-will for not saying my goodbyes to you, Daella and Rhae, it was all too...sudden. And yes father knows; he was the one who approved that I may squire for Ser Duncan. ~~Jacaera~~ Sister, I know that you and our brother Daeron are one and the same, and I cannot fully blame Daeron for his faults if anyone were to be blamed for this incident it would be ~~our brother~~ Aerion but it was my mistake to go rushing to Ser Duncan and not our uncle. Aerion did the deed, I sealed it and father is paying the price for it. _

Fathers pay for the sins of their sons, Egg and sons pay for the sins of their fathers.

_I pray that you, Daella and Rhae are well, forgive me again for not saying my goodbyes. And when father returns don’t try to pry him open, we all know how he is. I could only ~~hug~~ embrace father for a moment, you know how he is about those things. _

I’m sure father would not have minded if you embraced him longer.

_I don’t think we’ll see each other for years but I ~~will~~ shall write again. _

_Love,_

_Your little brother Egg_

She had so much to ask, among them is how in the seven hells did Egg convince their father for him squire for this Ser Duncan? It seems like the Seven Kingdoms went upside down. _Then again you were always his favourite._ Jaceara thought, it was the truth as far as she could see it but not something father would say out into the open. None of her family who were present at the tourney had told her of how the events unfolded aside from father killing their uncle. The pale Targaryen sighed, if anything from Daeron’s last letter were to say anything she had to prepare herself for Daeron’s long explanation of the events. She looked over at her father’s own letter, plain and neat but with a hint of anger as he wrote his words.

_Jaceara,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, but it only tells of the tragedy in Ashford. By now you would know that your Uncle Baelor, my elder brother was killed by my own hand during the Trial of the Seven and if either Daeron or Aegon had written to you blaming themselves believe them not, as it was I who did the deed strange to say, I do not recall the blow that broke his skull. Is that a mercy or a curse? Some of both, I think. Aegon will not be returning to Summerhall since I have granted your brother’s wish to squire for the hedge knight Ser Duncan whom your uncle had defended during the trial. Daeron and Aerion are returning to Summerhall as I have commanded, but I will not be joining them as I have gone to King’s Landing to entomb my brother’s ashes and tell the king of the loss of his son and heir._

You are his son too father.

_There are many other things I would like to write but they can wait until my return. For the time being, don’t tell the little ones of the matter, I shall tell them my---_

There came a knock at the door.

"Enter.”

The door of her father’s solar opened only to reveal Landry who limped his way inside.

“Lord Rivers is here to see you, Your Grace.”


	2. Cursed Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Brynden Rivers arrives unexpectedly in Summerhall to speak with his grandniece but not of the recent events in Ashford.

“Show him in,” Jacaera replied, “and see the Maester about that leg of yours.” She added.

“As you wish, Your Grace.” Landry replied, a smile on his lips and left to fetch her granduncle.

She was curious to know what brought him here; if he wanted to see her father he of all people would know where to find him. A thousand eyes and one as the smallfolk would whisper, even the high lords of the realm would say the same but not to his face. Jaceara sometimes felt that her granduncle enjoyed these tall tales of his nefarious exploits but she knew in her heart that Lord Brynden Rivers would do anything within his power to keep his brother’s line safe. After all, Lord Rivers was the only other Targaryen albeit a bastard who has the same condition she does. For years she had had these visions, dream-like in their nature but she could not interact with those around her in the dream, like any child she had told her mother the princess Dyanna of them but her dreams had only terrified the lady. What went through her mind then? Another Daeron? But it was only after Princess Dyanna’s death did Jacaera realize that her mother wasn’t terrified of another child screaming in the middle of the night, she was terrified because Jacaera showed no signs of terror from these dreams.Her thoughts were once again interrupted by a knock at the door but before she could grant entry the door opened. There stood Lord Brynden Rivers, pale and thin, his left eye lost during the first Blackfyre Rebellion to his half-brother Aegor Rivers. Jacaera noticed the hilt of the famed ancestral sword Dark Sister on his scabbard, the sword she often dreamed of wielding one day.

“I see you admiring Dark Sister,” said her granduncle as he approached her while unsheathing the ancestral blade, “have a look for yourself, see how it fits you.” He added, presenting her the sword with both hands.

Jacaera stood up and held its hilt, surprised as to how light it was and Lord Rivers took notice.

“It was made for a woman to wield.” He said as she gripped the sword.

Jacaera studied the blade before her, admiring the amethyst jewel forged at the center of its hilt. Her admiration of the ancestral blade was interrupted when it crossed her mind that her granduncle had been distracting her on the subject of his visit. She lightly hands him back Dark Sister and he sheathes it on the scabbard by his side.

“To what does my father owe this visit to?” She asked, assuming it had something to do with her father.

“I know about the dreams,” Lord Rivers replied without hesitation, “but they aren’t dreams, child.” He added.

She was anxious as to what he meant, surely mother and father kept it a secret but Jacaera knew better. In her dreams there was often a crow with three eyes travelling with her, caw caw caw it went as if guiding her through these dreams. Her mind returned to reality, and faced her uncle’s thin face and missing eye.

“I see very clearly in these dreams,” Jacaera said, breaking the silence, “much clearer than I do now.”

“They’re not dreams, child.”

“There’s a three-eyed crow, as if it’s guiding me through them.”

“I know.”

“How would you---“

“How many eyes does Lord Bloodraven have?” A chill came from the nape of her neck.

“A thousand eyes and one.” Jacaera did not hesitate for deep down she knew her uncle had kept watch over her all these years. “Who else knows?” she asked, wondering if there were others who kept it from her.

“You’re aunt Shiera,” he replied, “and you’re grandfather, my brother.” Lord Rivers added with a trace of hesitation in his voice. “Your mother knew, for it was she who came to me for counsel just as she had done for your brother Daeron.”

_So, you counselled her to keep it from me and not even attempt to teach me how to control them?_

“Was there something that triggered it?” He asked, the question stunned her mildly and silence followed.

“When I was three, we sailed for Dragonstone to visit Uncle Baelor,” Jacaera began lowly, “at the time when Uncle Rhaegel and Aunt Alys were visiting him, he’d written that Aunt Alys had given birth to the twins,” then she added unflinchingly, “and you already know what happens next.”

She remembered that day despite only being a child of three, Uncle Rhaegal and Aunt Alys were visiting Dragonstone when she went into labor and gave birth to the twins, Aelora and Alor. The family could not contain their excitement, let alone mother who insisted that they visit the new mother and father and their newborn children. Meanwhile in the capital, grandfather had been too preoccupied with the Blackfyres that he conveniently sent father to present the twins their own dragon eggs, a custom the family still observed even after the last of their dragons had passed. They had sailed to Dragonstone on Aenar, the ship named after their ancestor who escaped the doom of Valyria and settled on the foreboding castle. A sudden gust of wind came like a warning for what’s to come, the next thing she knew the water had engulfed the ship, dragging it down into the endless abyss and Jacaera had started screaming, shouting for her parents even as the water had risen higher and higher mother! father! but no one heard as air was barren and the cold water hurried to devour her.

Three days had passed and they discovered her on the shores of Dragonstone while everyone else had been swept back into the mainland. Jacaera had been unconscious for a fortnight in Dragonstone, Daeron had been inconsolable watching his sister in the same state each day he visited while their mother wept silently and father consoled her. She has seen this in her dreams constantly within that fortnight and she’d scream and shout for her parents just as she had during the storm but no one could hear her. It wasn’t until her father Maekar had sent the nursemaids away late one evening, and seated himself beside her, another dream? Her father spared no words but the lullaby she loved began, his baritone voice was softened when he sang, the song remained the same called The Pale Child, a lullaby from Old Valyria and when it nearly ended Jacaera opened her eyes, as if the end was over. _When is it really over?_

“Why are you here uncle?” she asked, trying to sound authoritative but her voice betrayed her. “From what I can tell it has nothing to do with what happened to Uncle Baelor.”

“I wanted you to know that there’s more to what you’ve seen in your visions.” The older man said in a low voice. “You’ll also have to interpret them by yourself, know what they mean, approach them with caution.”

“Am I cursed?” Jacaera asked, not losing a beat.

“No,” the thin man responded, “it’s a gift.”

“And what of my brother’s dragon dreams are they a gift too?” She asked, venomously. “I’ve been in his dreams, at night when Daeron wished for me to see them for myself.”

“I do not know why the gods chose to bestow this burden on Daeron, but it is you who has a say in this in the end.” He could see her shifting visibly, not a care if he had taken notice. “Listen, I know it may seem like you can only see the hedges and not the trees but give it time.” He leaned away from her and walked over to the window. “I have an inkling that we would see each other again very soon,” Lord Rivers turned to face her, “and I will teach you all that I know.”


	3. The Drunken and Brightflame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daeron and Aerion return from the tourney at Ashford.

The afternoon had been cooler than usual on the warm side of the continent as the party of Targaryen bannermen, knights and men-at-arms began arriving in columns at the entrance of the castle's gates. Summerhall, a Targaryen summer home until Daeron II commanded his fourth son whom he gave the title Prince of Summerhall for the purpose of keeping the Marcher and Dornish lords at bay or from keeping the young prince from starting a civil war like the Dance of Dragons or the Blackfyre rebellion as what many in the kingdom had whispered during those first few years. Being a lightly fortified castle Maekar requested his father to give him a garrison of knights in order to fortify the summer home for his young family.

Daeron, the eldest of his brood spent more time in King's Landing than the rest of his siblings as he had accompanied his father to visits throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Unfortunately, the heir to Summerhall had been underwhelming for someone of which greatness was expected but the Prince of Summerhall was unyielding to the truths that had befallen his son and so his attempt to 'fix' Daeron has yet to produce results. The second son Aerion who styled himself Aerion Brightflame had all the superficial qualities of a prince, beautiful but monstrous with a heart of poison and the intelligence of a rock and so Maekar did not attempt to fix his second son for Aerion was all gallant and chivalrous whenever his father was around. A blessing came in the form of a girl they named Jacaera, born in between both brothers but lacks their dysfunction and yet despite being seen as an improvement in contrast to her brothers the princess was later found out to be afflicted with the same condition as her granduncle; Bryden Rivers known throughout the realm as Lord Bloodraven. The smallfolk whispered of Lord Rivers' sorcery, that he could turn into mist in the blink of an eye, that it was he who ruled the Seven Kingdoms behind the curtain and so the child's birth was seen as an omen by the lowborn and highborn alike, a curse upon House Targaryen for mingling their Valyrian blood with that of the mysterious Daynes of Dorne who were mostly known for their ancestral sword Dawn and the Dayne who carries it; the Sword of the Morning. 

Years passed, and whispers of the pale child born to a dragon and the heart of a fallen star had all but become a myth for no one has ever glimpsed the child which the smallfolk later believed was a rumor started by the Blackfyres to bring chaos to the kingdom and only when the princes Baelor and Maekar won the battle at Redgrass Field did the rumors start dying out. It had been a peaceful existence until their mother died of a growth in the head, the family would never be the same again but left without a choice life moved on as it usually did no matter how chaotic the road it led them to.

* * *

She could only make out two figures approaching the castle, one had light brown hair and the other platinum blonde. The latter caught up with the former not wanting to be seen as a footman. Jacaera smiled knowing the extent of Aerion's pettiness but the smile quickly faded remembering the extent of Aerion's madness. It had been Aegon's cat she remembered the most out of these terrible acts, when Aegon pleaded with her to check on his cat it had been her who found Mr. Pebbles down the well. Of course she felt like committing the act of kinslaying for a brief moment, and when Aegon had taken the matter to father without consulting her he was dismissed as a liar. Jacaera attempted to clear Aegon's name by telling their father of the madness within their brother but Maekar dismissed her too. _Perhaps you'll finally do something about Aerion this time Father,_ she thought. _Sadly, you had to wait for something like this to happen._

"Your Grace," Landry's voice came, snapping her back into reality, "Prince Daeron and Prince Aerion are waiting for you in your father's solar."

* * *

When she arrived at the solar, Aerion had claimed their father's seat behind the desk with his feet up his hands neatly folded while Daeron poured himself some wine from the decanter as he looked through the window. Her brothers weren't just different in their nature or nurture but physically Daeron had their mother's Dornish features mostly in his sandy brown hair and Aerion had Targaryen features, platinum blonde hair, violet eyes and an athletic build. She'd been confused as to how she came out the way she did more so being the only child with the condition among the seven of them.

"Sister." Her brothers greeted in unison.

"Brothers." She took the chair facing their father's table and placed it between her brothers. "Care to explain what truly happened?" 

Daeron turned to face her for the first time as takes a sip of wine from his goblet earning him a smug smile from Aerion. 

"Certainly not a day I'd want to relive," Daeron replied, "I can't say the same for this one." he added nonchalantly, meaning Aerion.

"I suppose I won't be getting the full truth out of both of you." 

"Then why inquire in the first place?!" Aerion asked, obviously feeling harried. "This is not a time for such questions!"

Daeron shrugged and shook his head in disagreement.

"I suppose you'd rather let the truth slip by and be forgotten?" Jacaera inquired back, _two can play this game brother._

"Spare me sister," Aerion spewed, "that puppet girl blasphemed our house, I wasn't going to let her free without teaching her a lesson." 

For one brief moment she could imagine herself in Aerion's head, knowing all its secrets and the way it processed and perceived reality. She knew that Aerion had dreams too, dragon dreams that kept repeating themselves. 

"The puppet girl was only trying to make a living, Aerion." She said, softly. "Besides, I'm not even sure if what you were thinking were even the puppet girl's intentions." 

Aerion only glowered at her as if asking if she was accusing him of insanity, but when Jacaera flicked her blood red eyes at him he shrank under the weight of his seat. There had always been something that he had feared about his older sister despite how close they were in age, she had known of his dreams since he was a boy of six and he remembers vaguely the night of his repetitive dream, waking in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and paralyzed with fear, the first thing he sees is the face of his pale sister with her eyes the color of rubies standing over his bed with her hand in his. Little Aerion immediately let go of her hand, leaped off his bed and ran to their parents' chambers crying and telling them what had just happened but from that day on Aerion made sure that he was never left alone in a room with his older sister ever again.

"I think we've all had enough of talking for even half a day," Daeron cuts the silence and the siblings sighed in unison, "I suppose we ought to toast to something." Pouring wine on two goblets and handed them to Jacaera and Aerion. 

"Or someone." Jacaera muttered under her breath.

"Very well, let's toast to whatever or whoever each of us want to." Daeron suggested, who despite his faults had been the peacemaker of the family. _Sometimes I wonder if you do this to keep the peace between us as siblings or if it is to save your own shame, brother._

"I'll go first," Aerion announced. _Of course you do._ Jacaera thought, blinking at her silver brother after she rose from her chair and they held up their goblets. "I toast to myself, for defending the honor of our house when no one else would." 

Daeron and Jacaera did not lift their eyebrows for this was exactly what they expected, but only gave each other a glance as their younger brother drank his wine and they followed.

"To our Uncle Baelor," Jacaera toasted, "who would have been the finest king the Seven Kingdoms ever had." She need not say no more for what she spoke was truth.

"To Uncle Baelor!" The three of them exclaimed in unison with Aerion slightly behind and murmuring their uncle's name and Daeron looking solemn as he gulped his wine.

And the siblings drank from their goblets. Jacaera and Aerion's attention turned to Daeron who looked like he was about to collapse from where he stood.

"And lastly, to our little brother Aegon," Daeron said breathily, struggling to lift up his goblet, "who seems to be the only Targaryen who benefitted from all this."

"To Aegon!" Daeron and Jacaera exclaimed.

"To _Aegon._ " Aerion toasted with gritted teeth, finishing the last few drops of his wine.

Their toasts were followed with silence, they each knew that all that matters is what is said once their father returned from King's Landing. Jacaera turned to Daeron who stood closer to her, sensing some bitterness around him but mostly the weight of the burden he had been carrying since they were children, something she was all too familiar with. Aerion always recovers quickly, but she knew it was only pretend for when their lordly father returns to them it is his wrath and judgement he will have to face and not his siblings'. Jacaera looked down on her empty cup, wondering if the Seven really did curse the family the day she was been born but all she could do was comfort herself that none of her siblings would ever ascend the Iron Throne. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to review each chapter.


	4. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daeron and Jacaera talk about the former's dreams, while the latter tells Daeron of their granduncle's visit.

Night had fallen on Summerhall and one by one the siblings arrived for supper in the activity room, the largest private chambers in the castle. With the exceptions of Aemon who was being fostered in Winterfell and Aegon who was elsewhere galivanting around with his Ser Duncan, the remaining Summerhall children took their seats around the dining table. She sat between Daella and Rhae who looked about ready to gobble up the food that had yet to be served. Daeron was already half asleep and the only thing they saw of Aerion was his back entirely on them as if asking to get stabbed before the night is over. 

When the servants placed plates of food in front of them the steam from freshly cooked meals filled the room with the aroma of what should have been a fine supper, but there was poison hanging between the three elder siblings and it would not go away. When Father was away Jacaera would invite the servants closest to them for supper and this evening Landry, Old Alys, Darryn the gardener and Maester Robbards joined them. 

"Shall we?" Jacaera said, and everyone at the table started picking off food from the plates.

When Father was away, suppers were not always like this. Aemon often told them tales from his books something that he had inherited from their late mother Dyanna of House Dayne. Their mother had each given them a piece of her but she could never place where each of them had gotten their stubborn temperament, their father or their mother. Before Aegon had gone off on his grand adventure with his Ser Duncan he would often be late for supper, looking like he had just woken up from a bog covered in mud from head to toe and she had to give him a telling off to take a bath before he was allowed to sup with the rest of the household. 

Supper was served, roasted beef slathered with gravy and smoked onions, grilled chicken dipped in pineapple sauce, fish soup where the fish was stuffed with vegetables and lastly roasted pig which was a favorite in the household. 

"I can live like this for the rest of my life." Daeron said, he was going to be father's heir what else could he say?

"How's your foot Landry?" Jacaera asked the man sitting across from her. 

"Very well Princess, Maester Robbards was generous enough to lend me some oils for it." 

"Good good," Jacaera replied, "you've always been an asset to my father's household."

Landry smiled a bashful smile and continued digging into his grilled chicken. 

* * *

Later that night, Jacaera met with Daeron in her chambers which was often the case after he arrived with father from their travels across the Seven Kingdoms. This time he was in a cold sweat, solemn, and not as aggravated as he usually was when they met during these late nights in secret to talk about his dreams. Jacaera thought they were prophecy of days to come while Daeron saw it as a curse, a Targaryen kind that does not come easily. Daenys the Dreamer had it, but Jaceara had a feeling that she handled the gift better than Daeron did. Often, there was talk that she and Daeron were to wed, it was tradition for them after all but that was never the case between them especially after the household found out about their late night meetings which mainly revolved around Daeron's dreams and Jacaera interpreting them their father wanted Daeron to marry someone outside of the family but knowing Daeron herself she knew he's had a few compromising position with women outside of nobility. 

"Tell me about it." Jacaera started, pouring two cups of wine.

"It's a sickness of some sort," Daeron replied as he received his cup for her, "it spreads like wildfire."

"I take it that the capital will be the most affected area of this sickness," she said and took a sip from her cup, "have you told anyone else besides me?"

"No," Daeron replied silently, "three dragons die."

Jacaera's face was solemn, she never knew it would be so soon and one of those dragons could be their father for all they knew. Daeron knew what she planned to do but he was here now, he was father's heir after all and not her.

"I can't let you leave."

"I wasn't planning to, I was going to write to grandfather to evacuate the entirety of King's Landing." 

"Good luck with that." 

She immediately produced a parchment, quill and ink from the drawer of her bedside table and started scribbling the all to familiar words addressed to her grandfather the good King Daeron. 

_Dear grandfather,_

_I write to you tonight days after Uncle Baelor's passing, I know the timing isn't right nor is it appropriate to disrupt the stage of grieving for your beloved son but the entirety of King's Landing is in danger._ _You know of Daeron's dreams grandfather, they come true especially those concerning dragons like us and if you believe them please heed my advice to evacuate the capital immediately. Daeron says_ _a sickness will arrive soon and that three dragons would die. Give father all of our regards as well as Valarr and Matarys._

_You're loving granddaughter,_

_Jacaera_

She seals the letter with a wax candle.

"And what of you sister? Anything out of the ordinary while we were away?" Daeron said, slyly but half drunk.

"Uncle Brynden came by yesterday, told me about my gift."

"I honestly don't get your fondness for that one," Daeron sipped on his cup, "what did he say?"

"He said it's a gift, not a curse." 

"Right, and you believe him?"

"Sometimes I do." Jacaera replied honestly. "I haven't been honest with you, I saw you at the tourney." she admitted and his face sank to his cup.

"In your dream?" he asked, trying to stay calm but his voice betrayed him.

"I don't think it was." she replied. "It's not something I can control yet, but Uncle Brynden said he'd teach me how though I wouldn't know how he could when he's miles away." Jacaera trusted Daeron as a brother not to spill these things yet.

"Father wouldn't like that, you know he hates Brynden." Daeron spoke confidently this time, "What would he think of you studying the dark arts? Especially Brynden teaching you, father would think Brynden is trying to use you against him." 

Jacaera smiled and chuckled.

"Imagine father hearing this from your lips brother, he'd think of you as a worthy heir." Jacaera said, smiling at Daeron who shrugged.

"Father would remind me of all my other mistakes I suppose." Daeron replied looking down at his cup then taking a sip of the wine. "It's time for me to leave sister, I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

When morning came, she carried the letter for the king with her to the dining hall to break her fast with her siblings. She found Landry among the servants in the hall and immediately instructed him of the letter destined for King's Landing. Her siblings of course weren't all there yet but the sisters and Daeron were present, Daeron looked solemn and the sisters were chatting happily. 

A loud scream came and a chill passed through them. 

"Guards! Go see what that was!" Commanded Daeron the Heir this not the Drunken.

Two of the seven guards with Daeron and Jacaera went to check the noise from around the castle. There was a muffled cry for help from down the steps of the entrance of the castle. Landry.

He laid there bleeding, and repeating "I can't get up."

"What happened Landry?" asked Jacaera, worried.

"Someone took the letter, threw me down the stairs---" 

Landry collapses and is helped up.

"Careful with him, he might have broken his spine take him to the infirmary and have the maester check on him." Ordered Daeron, "Jace, call the other guards we need to check for any sign of the man who did this." 

"I'm impressed, I'll call them at once." Jacaera said, smiling like the previous night. "I just hope you know what to do once we find this man."


End file.
